


The Family Business

by andtheny



Series: Phantom Pain [9]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, Ghost Shenanigans, Jazz Fenton is trying her best, Separate Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom, Summer Vacation, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andtheny/pseuds/andtheny
Summary: “Tell me something,” Danny said. "If I had all my memories would you have listened to me then?"“Honey-” Mom started, but Danny interrupted her."You always find an excuse to blow me off!" He said. "Don't you think it's animal cruelty to tear a squid apart while it wriggles in agony?!""A GHOST squid," Dad said."If you had all your memories do you think you would trust us?" Mom said. "Hmm? To know what we're doing after all these years of careful research? To know what's best as your parents?"
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Fenton & Phantom, Jack Fenton & Tucker Foley, Phantom/Sam - Relationship
Series: Phantom Pain [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383205
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You guys ready for angst?! I know I am :D

Getting everyone at the dinner table should not be this much of a challenge. She’d made her mother’s favorite dish- chicken enchiladas with salsa verde- and bought her dad’s favorite dessert: fudge. 

Jazz set the table and washed the pots and pans, informed everyone days in advance, and even agreed to take a lesson on ghosts while they ate. 

So where the hell were her parents? 

Danny was frowning at the salsa. “What’s this green goop?” 

“It’s salsa verde,” Jazz said. 

“Verde?” 

“It’s Spanish for green.” 

“Appropriate.” 

Jazz drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s going to get cold!” 

“I think they’re almost done?” 

She stood up, ready to storm into the basement and cause a scene, but finally their parents came up the stairs laughing and covered in green goop of their own. 

“Sorry Jazzy-cakes, had a bit of an accident,” Dad said. “Just need a quick hosing down!” 

“We’ll be ready in a minute dear,” Mom said. “The food smells delicious.” 

Jazz sighed and resigned herself to re-heating everything in the microwave. 

When they were finally seated around the table she slapped on a smile and poured the salsa on everyone’s enchiladas.

Well, except for Danny’s. 

“Hey, why don’t I get any?” 

“It’s too spicy for you,” Jazz said. “Trust me, you hate it.” 

They’d all gotten used to the little gaps in Danny’s memory by now. He frowned, but nodded. Then Dad started in on the promised lecture, going into detail about their latest capture and what they’d learned about it. 

And for a second she could almost pretend they were a family. Not a normal one by any means, but together. Whole. 

"Of course, these animal ghosts aren't as stable as the _humanoid_ ones," Mom interrupted with a pointed look at Danny. "But they're still a great source of data." 

"Aw, c'mon Mads," Dad laughed. "We'll get him again, it's just a matter of time!" 

The ghost boy was their favorite obsession. It was a sore point that Danny had apparently let the ghost go after they'd finally captured it. 

Jazz bit her lip and tried to gauge Danny's reaction to their mother's passive aggressive antagonism, but he was staring resolutely at his enchilada. Carefully chewing.

“Not to dis your cooking or anything,” Danny said. “But this tastes really plain. Can I take a bite out of one of yours? Just to taste the sauce.” 

“No, Danny.” Jazz tried to project a soft hearted and apologetic tone, but this attempt was contradicted by the sharp scrape of her fork as she accidentally stabbed one of her enchiladas too hard.

She winced. A piece of chicken fell out of the wrapping. “Danny, it's better if you don't taste it." She put her dang fork down and hoped her smile didn't look condescending. "Seriously, you’ll hate it.” 

“I just want to taste it for _myself._ ”

“We know you best, honey,” Mom interjected. 

"Just like we know ghosts best," she couldn't help but add and Jazz watched Danny's jaw clench. 

There was no salvaging this.

Glaring at them, Danny picked up the bowl of verde sauce and dumped its contents on his enchiladas. Jazz sighed. 

They all watched as he took a giant bite, nearly stuffing an entire enchilada in his mouth. Then his eyes began to water, but still he stubbornly chewed, glaring directly at Mom now.

“You obviously don’t like it,” Mom said. “It’s okay to spit it out. We won’t get mad. Right Jazz?” 

“I won’t get mad,” Jazz agreed.

But she wished her mother would just stop talking. She was making everything worse. Why couldn't she _see_?

Danny resolutely swallowed his food and took another bite. Tears were streaming down his face now and he closed his eyes, face scrunched up as he chewed. 

“You’re being silly,” Mom said.

By now Jazz had lost her appetite, but she continued eating anyway. She didn’t want any leftovers. _And it's probable_ , Jazz thought, _That I'll never make chicken enchiladas again._

Because she wouldn’t be able to eat them without remembering this disaster. 

When Danny finally finished chewing he chugged his soda until the cup was empty. Then he got up for a refill and chugged that too.

In between his gulps he coughed. His face was red. 

Dad laughed. “There’s that Fenton fighting spirit. Stubborn as a mule, just like his old man!” 

“Tell me something,” Danny said. "If I had all my memories would you have listened to me then?"

Jazz missed the days when 'ghost hunting' was just a theoretical science.

“Honey-” Mom started, but Danny interrupted her.

"You always find an excuse to blow me off!" He said. "Don't you think it's animal cruelty to tear a squid apart while it wriggles in agony?!"

Without the creatures themselves, tangible and sentient, her poor baby brother wouldn't have to grapple with the trauma of their parent's profession.

"It's a _ghost_ squid," Dad said.

"They don't have nerve endings like a real animal," Mom added. "Sweetie, they can't feel any pain." 

"You don't _know_ that!" 

Mom took a deep breath. 

Then she said the worst thing she could have ever said. 

"If you had all your memories do you think you would trust us?" Mom said. "Hmm? To know what we're doing after all these years of careful research? To know what's best as your _parents_?" 

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. 

Danny's eyes were still watering from the sauce, maybe. 

Or he was carefully crying. If so it was the most controlled and dignified shedding of tears Jazz had ever seen. And something she'd certainly never expected from her baby brother, who'd always cried loudly and forcefully- as angry to be crying as he was upset at whatever had set it off. 

They all waited for him to say something. Instead, still standing with his empty cup, he grabbed another enchilada (messily, with his bare hand) and stuffed half of it in his mouth. 

More tears flowed down his cheeks. 

And he just stood there, fist clenched around the other half of the enchilada. Sauce dripped onto the floor.

Dad cleared his throat. "We could always try again with those, whatsit, that reflection thing?" 

The Reflections had been Jazz's idea. An attempt to unlock the buried memories in Danny's brain by having him recite key memories that they'd taught him. 

Danny's face scrunched up at its mention and he tried to quickly gulp down his mouth full, but failed. He ended up coughing it out. 

"I'm not doing those again!" Danny said, wiping at the mess on his face with his arm. 

Jazz scrambled up with a napkin to help him and he backed away from her. 

She quickly changed directions (to mask her hurt feelings at yet another direct rejection?) and used the napkin to try and pick up the chewed bits of food on the floor. 

"We already agreed you don't have to anymore," Jazz assured him. 

It had been an unsuccessful experiment. And Jazz had realized the whole exercise brought her brother more pain and frustration than anything else.

Danny was crying in a more familiar way now, though he tried to stifle himself by roughly shoving his hands over his own mouth and clenching his eyes shut. 

_That's entirely new_ , she thought.

Then she glanced back at their parents. 

Dad looked apologetic, if a tad confused. 

Mom sat rigidly in her seat, completely expressionless. 

_She shuts down when she loses control_ , Jazz's inner psychologist was always quick to throw out theories. 

But Mom was tearing up a bit herself, eyes trained on Danny. Who was now backing out of the room, slowly. As if it would be less noticeable that way.

Jazz wanted to follow him out, to comfort him. But Mom had been right about one thing: 

When Danny had lost his memories he'd also lost his _trust_ in them.

He'd lost his family. To him the Fentons were just a random collection of people he was now forced to live with. In a lot of ways Danny was like an orphan who had woken into an unfamiliar world. 

And the more Jazz tried to _help_ the more he pulled away. 

How was she supposed to solve this?


	2. Chapter 2

The waiting room at the Holy Family Psychotherapy Training Institute was filled with toys and children's books. 

Soft instrumentals drifted out of the speakers overhead and the seats were a series of small benches, encouraging people to sit tucked close to their loved ones.

Danny chose to stay standing, tapping his foot. "This is silly." 

"It's not silly," Jazz said. "Therapy is an avenue for dealing with your repressed emotional trauma-"

"I don't have _trauma_." 

"-guided by an objective but carrying third party," Jazz continued. "I should have realized sooner that I was too close to give you the help you needed."

"What kind of name is 'Holy Family Psychotherapy' anyway?" Danny muttered. "Are they religious? I thought therapy was, like, the opposite of religious." 

"You mean secular." Jazz looked down at the pamphlet. "Their founder was Catholic, but-"

"And they're also a _training institute?_ " Danny opened the only other door besides the main office and found a bathroom. "Who the heck are they training? There's only one office." 

Jazz scrutinized at the plaque on the office door. "I'm sure Dr. Spectra has a host of students that she mentors. Or, I don't know. There's nothing about it on the pamphlet." 

"We should do more research. Find someone else." If there was one thing his sister respected, it was research. "What if she hears about my accident and decides I'm possessed by demons?"

Jazz gave him one of those condescending smiles and he glared at her.

"I'm serious!" Danny said. "Remember those priests that came over when the portal made the news? They think mom and dad are witches." 

Jazz patted the seat beside her and tried to give him puppy dog eyes. "Will you sit down with me? Please?" 

He did so, reluctantly. 

Like everything else he did these days. 

"Therapists are not like priests." Jazz ran her fingers against the natural flow of his hair, something Phantom often did. 

Danny glared at his shoes. 

"And once I explain our situation, Dr. Spectra will-" 

The office door opened and a red headed woman in a blazer and skirt stepped out. 

"Daniel Fenton?" The woman was wearing sunglasses and she tilted them down her nose to look at them. 

"Yes, m'am, that's us!" Jazz quickly stood and extended a hand towards the woman. "Thank you so much for seeing us." 

Dr. Spectra graciously shook the hand she was offered. "Oh no, thank _you_. I understand this is often the hardest first step." 

She turned her attention to Danny, smile wide and sharp. "It's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Right. Thanks." Danny didn't offer to shake her hand. 

The office itself didn't look like an office. It was more of a sitting room, with a variety of chairs and couches arranged in a circle. 

The walls were lined with diplomas and motivation quotes and the shelves were weighed down by thick volumes and journals.

"Before you start, I just wanted to inform you of Danny's situation." Jazz took a seat on one of the couches and Danny frowned. 

He could speak for himself couldn't he? 

"Ah, the amnesia?" Dr. Spectra sat on a plush armchair, leaving Danny to pick between a plain wooden chair and the couch with Jazz. "Your mother mentioned it on the phone." 

He picked the chair and sat carefully, without slouching or crossing his arms the way he would have liked. 

He knew enough about psychology to imagine how the good doctor would analyze that.

"Did she also mention their… unusual career?" Jazz leaned forward, planting her elbows on her knees. 

"She did, dear." Spectra crossed her legs together and pointedly looked down her nose, sunglasses nearly slipping off her face. "And Danny can go into more detail himself, can't you Danny?" 

"Oh, um, yeah. I'll get into _all_ the detail." Danny scratched his cheek. "I mean, that's what I'm here for right?" 

Pretending to cooperate would make the whole thing easier, he figured. 

"But the amnesia is an obstacle, isn't it?" Jazz said. "Since he can't remember his childhood, I thought I could fill in the blanks." 

"What does my childhood have to do with anything?" Danny said. "I thought this was about the enchiladas." 

Spectra's lip twitched. "The enchiladas? Please, elaborate on that." 

"Danny, it was never about the enchiladas," Jazz straightened up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse. "The enchiladas were a symbol of your-"

"Excuse me, dear," Dr. Spectra interrupted. "I understand your concerns and I admire and respect your interpretation of events. However, we have to extend that same respect towards your brother." 

Danny glanced between the two, eyes widening as he recognized something awfully Jazz-like about the way the therapist was speaking. 

Jazz's eyes widened too and her cheeks began to redden. "O-of course I respect Danny's interpretations. I… of course."

"Then will you allow us to begin our session?" Spectra looked at her watch. "You've already eaten into eight minutes." 

He'd never seen Jazz so rattled before. It was kind of embarrassing. She stuttered out another "of course" and got up to leave.

He looked at the ground as she passed.

That was when he noticed the cat. 

"So what was that about enchiladas?" Dr. Spectra said as soon as the door had closed behind Jazz. 

It was one of those overly fluffy cats with long gray fur, lying down under the couch Jazz had occupied. 

"There's a cat," Danny said, stupidly. "Uh, under the couch." 

Spectra chuckled. "That's Penelope. She's a bit shy towards strangers, so she'll hide for a while." 

The cat was looking directly at him. She stretched, sticking her paws out into the open for just a second, and then retreating back under the couch. She didn't blink or break eye contact. 

"Is it normal to have a cat here?" 

He wondered, suddenly, if there had ever been any pets in the Fenton household. Would an animal be safe around all the ghost hunting equipment? It would be likely to end up as a ghost itself. 

"Do you like animals, Danny?" Dr. Spectra leaned back in her chair and uncrossed her legs.

She didn't have a clipboard or anything. Weren't therapists supposed to have clipboards? 

"You're deflecting," Danny said. 

It was something Jazz often said to him, though he wasn't entirely sure what it meant. 

Spectra chuckled. "Let's backtrack a bit. Enchiladas? What do they symbolize for you and your sister?" 

Danny sighed. 

"It was this stupid hot sauce…"

Jazz was quiet on the drive home. It was kind of worrying. Danny had expected she'd interrogate him about his session. Or else chat cheerfully about… well, anything. 

Whatever the situation, Jazz always found a way to fill in the silences. She said the best thing two people could do was talk, even if they said nothing important.

 _"Because talking is our way of reaching outside of our own solitary minds and just existing with each other_ ," Jazz had said. _"Language is the greatest tool of the human race."_

Had he ever seen her this quiet before? Danny wished Phantom was around so they could compare notes. 

"Are you okay?" Danny said. 

Jazz kept her eyes on the road, both hands firmly squeezing the steering wheel. "I'm fine," she said. "Dr. Spectra is a smart woman. I'm glad she… well, she made a good point. It's a good thing." 

"She hurt your feelings," Danny said. 

Jazz shook her head. "I was being rude. I'm kind of ashamed of myself." 

"I'm rude all the time," Danny said. "Um, I never apologized for the mess I made with the sauce and all that. Or for, like… being a brat." 

Jazz chuckled and took a quick peek at him. "You aren't a brat." 

He grinned. "I'm a total brat." 

"And I'm overbearing." Jazz hummed. "With too big an ego and too small an ear." 

"What? You've got the _hugest_ ears." Danny gave her earlobe a tentative tug. "You're like dumbo. The best listener I've ever met." 

She giggled and slapped his hand away. "Hey, my actual ears are normal sized!" 

"Sometimes I think you've got _super_ hearing," Danny added. "Like, I can try to sneak out of my room and tip toe into the kitchen and you always hear me and come 'round to cook us something." 

"If I didn't do that you'd just eat cereal for every meal," Jazz said. "And it's better to eat with company isn't it?" 

Again, she took a peek at him before glancing back at the road. 

He tried to smile at her. "You're right. I'm sorry for avoiding it." 

"It's okay," Jazz said. "Hey, speaking of, want to pick up some food? Something greasy and unhealthy." 

"Heck yeah, let's go to the Nasty Burger." 

"To the Nasty Burger!" She declared.

Then he told her about the cat hiding under the couch and she happily explained the wonders of animal therapy.

So Danny figured everything was okay now. 

Or. Okay enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be putting this series on hiatus for a few months, because I'm kind of juggling too many fics at the moment. Sorry about that!


End file.
